


Be My Co, I'll Be the Pilot

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8303536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Still, the only thing that winds Cas up more than a glass of patron is a few hits of the L and ten minutes to let it sink in, so the face he makes when the internal argument boots up is beautiful. To fuck or not to fuck in a room full of people. That is the question.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration hit. I'm not sure why this one came out as Dean/Cas - they're my babies, but I haven't written them for a while. It's a trip down memory lane! I was listening to The Internet - Get Away when I wrote this. Sorry it's so short! I only wrote for the duration of the song, and then edited afterwards. Roll up, ya'll. :3

Whatever Dean’s smoking is some _strong_ shit.

He’d thought it was bad when he’d first hit, eyes rolling back into his head because it burned a little, and he’d felt good. Then it’d actually hit him just a few minutes later and he’d realized that yes, he’d gotten his hands on some really, _really_ good dank.

The only thing he has to say about that is, “Jesus  _Christ_ ,” before he passes the blunt off to his neighbor and lays back against his mattress.

He’s got decent company - nothing like a spliff between friends that burns low too fast. It’s not like it matters because clearly two hits was enough, but it’s nice to have a common thread and a room full of smoke between them.

“I’ve never done this before.” Cas says quietly.

“Mm. I got you.” Dean says, struggling to keep his eyes open. He reaches out to take the blunt back so that he can shotgun it, and Cas hands it off to him clumsily. “Come here.”

Benny’s out of it and Jo’s out of it - Ruby’s been out of it since before she even _joined_ them in the room, and so Castiel crawls over Dean’s body without the fuss he usually puts up when they’ve got company and Dean’s trying to get him to do something.

Dean’s pull is long enough to fill his lungs. It tastes like grass, what little bit actually hits his taste buds and doesn’t just sail to the back of his throat, and he thinks that this is it, the last hit he’ll take for the night if he doesn’t want to wind up face down in his pillows, sleeping from now until the end of the fucking century.

Castiel crawls himself over Dean and bends down so that he won’t have to move, and then parts his gorgeously pink lips and leans in close. Dean only has to flex a bit to blow the smoke he’s holding right into Castiel’s mouth, and he doesn’t necessarily need to wind a gentle hand around Castiel’s neck and guide him to tilting his head so that it’s easier, but he does it because he likes to feel Castiel’s pulse racing beneath his fingertips.

That and because the THC is working over him, telling him that a blunt between friends is nice, but an evening under your bestfriend, high as a kite with nowhere to be, is even better.

 

-

 

Dean dozes off, and when he wakes up, Castiel’s laying beside him staring up at the butt-ugly ceiling like he’s got nothing better to do. One arm is drooped lazily over his forehead, and the other is rubbing his stomach beneath the fabric of a hoodie that belonged to Dean up until a week ago.

Dean looks out at the rest of the room. Jo and Ruby are curled up around one another, limbs dead weight over each others bodies. Benny’s spread-eagle beneath Dean’s computer desk and his head is covered with a spare throw from the back of Dean’s butterfly chair.

They're all clearly still high and Dean's still lazy. One look at the alarm clock tells him that he’s got hours before sunrise and even then, he ain’t got shit to do, so what does the time matter? The thought is exhilarating, amplified by the weed in his system, and he laughs again. This time it’s deeper and it comes from his chest. It startles Castiel into rolling over on top of him, covering his mouth with both of his warm palms and hissing, “ _S_ _hhh_ , Dean.”

Dean licks at his palm until Castiel lets him go.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Dean croaks.

Castiel’s cheeks go a brilliant pink, and Dean reaches up to run his thumb across the color. It doesn’t jog, just goes momentarily white beneath the pressure and then back to that marvelous red when he lets go.

It’s Castiel who makes the first illicit move, adjusting not-so-innocently over Dean’s lap and watching him to see if it’s alright. There’s never a time when it _wouldn’t_ be alright, but Dean gets it. There are other people in the room who may or may not spring awake and Castiel’s never been an exhibitionist.

Still, the only thing that winds Cas up more than a glass of patron is a few hits of the L and ten minutes to let it sink in, so the face he makes when the internal argument boots up is beautiful. To fuck or not to fuck in a room full of people. That _is_ the question.

“Just do it,” Dean whispers to him, winding his arms around Castiel’s body and gripping his ass. “They won’t wake up.”

“They might wake up,” Castiel says back, but he leans forward and noses at Dean’s jaw, and the rest of his protests get lost against the skin of Dean’s neck, Castiel nibbling at it between repeats of the same damn thing, _they might wake up_.

Dean guides Castiel into a more insistent rolling of his hips, until he can feel the stiff line of Cas’ cock pushing against the soft line of his own dick, and Castiel sighs, dropping to his forearms and resting his forehead on the pillow beneath Dean’s head. The position is good leverage for Castiel to work himself back and forth over Dean’s body, and it gives him somewhere to deposit the little huffs that fall from his mouth.

The thought of having company, or maybe the thought of that company waking up and finding Cas like this, humping between Dean’s legs and softly moaning into his ear while he gets himself off, is intoxicating enough to wake Dean’s body up. He’s got more blood rushing hot through his veins than he’s ever had, and he feels easy with how much he wants for Cas to come between his thighs.

He tightens his grip and coaxes Castiel into deeper movements, meeting him halfway and rubbing their hard, clothed cocks together until there’s electricity shooting through his body and butterflies collecting in the pit of his stomach.  

Dean’s sheets are some loud, polyester fabric that rustle under his back, and his dorm bed has cheap springs that sound like whistles when they start to squeak, but Dean’s not worried about either of those things waking their guests. It’s Cas, who quickly starts to loose his grip on where he is and sits up so that he can fuck Dean’s lap properly, that Dean's worried about

The next time he rolls up, he decides, he’s doing it minus the three bums scattered on his carpet.

“Come on,” Dean grunts, holding Castiel’s hips so that he won’t lose his balance. “You don’t want ‘em to wake up, right?”

“I’m trying.” Cas whispers.

The friction is nice, but it’s just shy of what Dean needs, and while Cas is probably leaking in his boxers, rubbing pre-cum into the cotton fixed to his cockhead, Dean’s not game for a quickie that leaves him horny and stiff as a fucking rock. He gives Castiel a pat in warning, and then bucks him hard enough to jog him sideways. He rolls over and kneels between Cas’ legs, holding them open by the thighs and then grinding down against him with the faculty of a maniac.

Fuck the fact that the bed rocks, and that the bedframe bumps the wall. Fuck that someone’s shifting around sleepily on the carpet, muttering dreams and other unimportant admissions. Fuck that Cas has stopped caring about ‘ _shhh, Dean_ ,’ because he’s too busy begging low under his throat, waiting for Dean to give it to him good enough to have him coming in his pants.

Because he’s higher than the empire state building, and he’s fucking his boyfriend with his clothes on in a room full of people.

Castiel comes first, and he’s quiet about it. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open wide enough for Dean to lean down and lick right into it, breathing hot air between each other that Dean remembers was smoke not even an hour ago. When Castiel nibbles his bottom lip and then fumbles his way beneath Dean’s shirt to finger his nipples, Dean makes a pained noise that seems forced from his body. It’s a bit too loud and he tries to hide it in the crook of his arm, but it's come and gone to an audience that isn't even conscious.

He comes in his jeans, disgusting himself with the sticky feeling of wet underpants, but loving that Cas giggles about it and pulls him closer.

In the silence that follows, Castiel fixes them both back to laying, and then cuddles up against Dean's side. He mumbles that they can change their clothes in the morning, "because we don't have anywhere else to be." 

 

-

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you need me, I'm NOT kissingandcrying on Tumblr. I'm Litindecency! (I realize that there's a tumblr with this name, which is why I say this - :P)


End file.
